This song is dedicated to a certain kind of people.... Which just so happens to be my favorite kind of people.
You know… the ones that… you know, when you’re standing next to them, and all of a sudden it gets dark… I mean, you know your best friend is… you know what I’m saying, right? Yeah.

Black people
One big family,
With a really big bucket
of KFC
Black people
(Seriously, like all of us are related)

I ran into an old amigo named Juan Luis
The Mexican called me "Apple" cause we both hang from trees
Now I, I kinda took that in a joking way
But was he talking 'bout monkeys or the KKK?

We don't get sunburnt, just ashy knees
And we don't chew tobacco
But we will smoke weed
Puff, puff, pass like the train that could,
And we can’t spell "neighbor," so we call it "the hood"

And most of us will die with our finger on the trigger
I guess that's why they say I'm just a filthy little spear chucking, chicken eating, melon sucking, lone fetus, weed smoking, long penis.... well, you get the picture.

They tried to keep us out the White House again
But just like all white houses, one of us broke in.

And welfare and diapers is all we got
If you don't wear my favorite color then you might get shot…
(My favorite color is purple, by the way…..)

A black woman came to me to bash my song
I told her, “All Blacks are Democrat, now prove me wrong."

Black People
One big family,
With a really big bucket
of KFC
Black people
(And it doesn’t have to be KFC, we like Popeye’s biscuits too)

Hey, Hey.

(What’s a black song without any rap in it, right?)

Yo, Check It, Unh, Yo, Yo, Yo

(it always starts off that way, right?) Yo!

Rap Verse:

Now, there’s a line between discriminating and not in different places
You are if you use the N-word, but if you're black then you’re not racist,
I mean, well, I guess you can, just not around your black friends,
You’ll get jumped by every cousin, including the one behind that trash can,

Now, let me tell you a story, back before America was stolen,
There were two tribes of black people, the Indians and the Po' Ones,
The Indians were like caramel, the Po One’s were like sharpies,
I guess that’s why they call them Pilgrims, and why they call us Darkies.

The Indians had all the horses, land, turkeys, the geniuses
The Po One’s killed their horses, took their hair and their penises,
But uh..there’s not really a moral to this story though,
Except that we will steal your goodies, and that is how the story goes.